Failure to Girl
by ChocoChipBiscuit
Summary: Alistair attempts to prank Brosca. It does not go as planned.


Alistair snickers to himself, dropping the mouse into her bedroll. _That_ would show her for giving all his cheese to the dog! He can already imagine Jenka Brosca's girlish scream, her frightened run into his manly arms…

…actually, forget the joy of the prank itself. That last part would be worth it all, especially with all her innuendo about lampposts in winter and the way she would lick her lips and wink at him whenever eating sausage…

With a gleeful smile, he hears her squeak 'Hey!', likely about to crawl into bed and discovering the mouse. He readies herself for her shock and terror.

A shriek. Wait, no, that was more like… a bellow? A _happy_ one?

"Hot damn! These 'uns are good eating!" she guffaws, walking out of her tent with the mouse dangling by its tail in one hand. The dwarf eyes it intently, a fiendish gleam in her eyes as she licks her lips. Her dark hair is in wild disarray, no longer neatly tied into her usual braids, and gives her an almost witch-like appearance.

The wicked joy in her face reminds Alistair of story-book pictures he's seen of the Witch of the Wild. Only instead of mice, there had been children in her grasp. The unsavory parallel sends an unpleasant shudder through his body.

"Hey, Leliana! Got those herbs'n spices still?" his beloved hollers, still gazing intently at the mouse.

The bard coughs delicately, her pale cheeks turning faintly green.

"Y-yes, but surely you do not intend to _eat_ that thing, do you?" she asks, a slight uptilt at the end of that sentence turning it from a mere question to soft begging.

"Of course!" Jenka exclaims, giving Leliana a strange, almost sympathetic look. It is the expression one might give a particularly slow but beloved child.

"Well… why?"

Alistair turns pink, finally hearing Leliana asking the question that has been weighing on his mind. Why on earth would Jenka—she of the plump, bitable lips and the generous curves, the seductive smile and bawdy jokes— why would she ever eat such a disgusting thing?

"Because they're good eating, is why," Jenka says slowly. "By the way, we got honey? I've heard the nobles like to dip 'em in honey, and that sounds _really_ good right now…"

"But lamb! Beef! Chicken! Even the foul things that pass for such in Fereldan cooking; surely one has much more choice than such a petite mouse?" asks Leliana, finally moving to get the cooking supplies. At least the mundane task of opening the packs, pulling out bottles and small packets of spice, gives her purpose while her thoughts are still awhirl with this unexpected revelation about their leader's dining habits. Alistair almost envies her for having _something_ to do.

Shooting Leliana a look of disgust, Jenka jabs her free hand downward, index finger pointed accusingly to the earth… and by extension, the caverns and passages that run far below.

"You think a casteless thug got any of _that_ growing up?" she asks contemptuously, pulling out a small knife and carefully slitting the creature's throat. It gives one final squeak before expiring, and Jenka carefully starts cleaning the diminutive carcass.

"I apologize, my friend. I did not mean…" Leliana says weakly.

Jenka softens, though despite the circumstances, she returns to giving Leliana a pitying look.

"Look, songbird, we would eat nug when we could catch it. I know you love your 'Meester Schmooples'—and I'm not going to eat him, I promise, so stop looking at me that way—but we couldn't afford keeping an animal as a pet. Hell, even Barkspawn there is completely new for me."

Barkspawn lives up to his name, barking happily and wagging his tail as he comes closer to investigate. Jenka playfully swats him away from her tiny prize, rolling it in crushed salt, pepper, and after some hesitation, a tiny dab of cinnamon.

"Oh. I see. And… there is honey," Leliana adds, almost an afterthought. Some of her green pallor has faded, and she looks a bit more like herself.

Jenka licks her lips appreciatively.

"Mm, thanks. Look—I know it might seem strange to you, but these things are _really_ good eating. Better'n nug. Tender. Sweet. I heard even Noble Caste will eat 'em, but they'll fry 'em up crispy and dip them in honey. I'd offer to share, but this tiny 'un will be about bite sized even for me," she apologizes, though that wicked grin is back on her face. "But if Barkspawn is really good and catches us some more, I bet I can cook enough for everyone, alright?"

"…I'd like that," Alistair says quietly, finally recovering enough to speak.

"I promise, you'll be the first one to eat it. After me, of course," Jenka rushes to assure him.

Later, after her snack, Alistair sits by her. Close enough their thighs nearly touch, but too timid to approach further. Guilt weighs on his mind—even if she did decide to interpret it as a blessing. With a happy sigh, she leans against him, closing the minute distance between them. This prompts him to finally confess.

"My love? I must tell you… I put that mouse in your bedroll. I am glad you liked it, but I thought… I thought it would be a joke. I thought you would be scared, and… I was a fool. For trying to play a prank like that on you."

"Mm. That you were," she says agreeably, rubbing his knee affectionately. "I figured. You aren't very sneaky, dear. Besides, we fight darkspawn daily. We've taken a tower full of abominations. You really thought a mouse was going to scare me?"

"I… did not really think that through," Alistair admits, cheeks burning with shame.

"Of course you didn't. But I love you anyway. Thanks for the snack."


End file.
